


The Way Home

by pancake_surprise



Series: Whom You Feed [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Bruce Banner & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Has Issues, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Banner-centric, Families of Choice, Gen, M/M, POV Bruce Banner, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Tony Stark, Sad and Happy, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-05 06:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15165122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancake_surprise/pseuds/pancake_surprise
Summary: Bruce Banner lives in the Avengers Tower with the rest of the team. He eats most of his meals with them and even lets Steve talk him into movie nights and other "official team bonding activities". But despite all that, Bruce still doesn't realize his place and importance among the team.“Normally I’m the one that needs to relax but seriously you guys need to chill out. The Hulk isn’t going anywhere. He’ll still smash up whatever alien invader it is that week. Just let me live my life in peace in between.” He set about making the cup of tea he'd been craving earlier, banging the cabinet doors shut and slamming the mug onto the countertop.For one long moment, no one moved. No one spoke. And then, like a switch had been flipped, everyone was speaking at once, if only for a moment.“You really,” Tony began.“Bruce, how,” Natasha said.“It isn’t a matter of,” said Steve.“No, no, that isn’t,” Clint muttered.“My friend,” Thor began.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So when I wrote this story I sort of didn't pick a place for it to exist in canon. It's post-Avengers (2012) and pre Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015). I didn't account for any of the standalone movies that occur in between. This was written mostly to cure my post-infinity war depression and to give Bruce Banner the heckin love he deserves.

Bruce Banner had really ought to be used to waking up on a bed of rubble, covered in a thin layer of dust, considering it happened far more often than he’d like these days. Despite that, when Bruce woke up to chunks of concrete digging into his back with nothing but the purple spandex pants on, that Tony had thankfully finished earlier that week, it was still somehow a complete shock. He laid miserably among the rubble, bones aching and muscles sore, for as long as his back could tolerate before, reluctantly, he began climbing out of the debris. It wasn’t often he woke up after a stint as the Other Guy alone, not since the Other Guy had been recruited by the Avengers. Whenever the Other Guy deemed it unnecessary to continue rampaging, Bruce would wake up, pantless, to Thor or Tony or sometimes Agent Barton grinning down at him and offering a hand to help half walk, half drag him into the waiting quinjet. But today he was alone. And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t give him an uneasy feeling deep in his gut.

Sunlight poured in from the giant hulk-sized hole in the wall of whatever building the Other Guy dragged him into before letting Bruce have the reigns again. Bruce strained himself, listening for...something but he couldn’t hear a thing. No shouting, no distant explosions, no SHIELD agents discussing the damage the Other Guy had caused...just silence. For the first time since he joined the Avengers, he wondered if his standard “did we win?” would have a different answer. The thought made him feel kind of sick.

Bruce stumbled toward the hole in the wall and then outside. The sun was setting overhead and it was blatantly clear that he was nowhere near where the fight had initially taken place. His memory of the actual battle may be vague at best, but he knew for sure that the initial drop point had been in a very crowded, metropolitan area of Chicago. Definitely not in a seemingly endless field with an abandoned warehouse being the only building for miles. This was...  _weird_. The Other Guy didn’t run from a battle, not when ‘SMASH’ was still an option and he definitely had never run hundreds of miles away after a fight. There undoubtedly had been plenty of rubble for the Other Guy to leave Bruce in. No need to run hundreds of miles away.

Bruce shook the dust from his hair and took in his surroundings. A single winding, gravel road led to the warehouse. A quick survey of the area revealed no telephone lines ruling out that possibility the warehouse had a landline hookup. And without a cell phone, Bruce had no choice but to start walking down the gravel road. If he could find a gas station or a diner, maybe they would let him borrow the phone to call Tony.

In the decade Bruce had spent on the run, he had grown meticulous in checking for signs that he had been bugged or was being tracked. And he was proud that before Natasha had tracked him down on behalf of SHIELD, he had successfully kept the United States Army and several other nefarious parties off his back. And even as a member of the Avengers, he resisted having any form of tracking device embedded in his clothing or elsewhere on his person. It took too much of his autonomy away. He needed the reassurance that if something were ever to go south, he could get himself out. But now, shambling down a gravel road in god-knows-where, he almost wished Tony could hit a button, locate his coordinates, and be there within the hours.  

 

Bruce was unsure how long he walked before finally stumbling upon a tiny drive-through town a while after dawn. All post-hulk-outs considered, walking even eight hours wasn’t so bad compared to the time he had to stumble through the woods for three days before finding civilization again. Even if the journey was shorter, however, it didn’t make the bone-deep aches and overwhelming exhaustion that followed his time as the Other Guy any more tolerable. At this point, he was pretty sure he could curl up and pass out almost anywhere.

Bruce passed by a 24-hour diner first, but the waitress quickly shooed him away. With most of the other stores in town still closed for the morning, relief flooded his chest when Bruce spotted the payphone attached to the wall outside the corner store. He practically whooped with joy when he lifted the receiver and heard an honest-to-god dial tone. Bruce inserted the quarters he’d swiped from the tip jar at the diner before he’d been kicked out. No shoes. No shirt. No service. Bruce felt more than a little guilty for swiping the $2.11 even if he was sure Tony would wire the waitress more than enough money to cover her first year of college by later that afternoon. Bruce felt a wave of sheer relief when it took only one shrill ring before Tony was on the line.

“Bruce?” The raw worry Tony packed into one word was enough to leave Bruce nearly dumbfounded. There was never any reason to worry about the Other Guy. He was far from the most vulnerable member of the team.

He must have taken too long to respond because then Tony was speaking again and tone of concern had grown even greater.  “Bruce? I’m tracing this call. We’re on our way. Stay where you are,” Tony said in a haste.

Bruce snapped himself out of his state of bewilderment. “Tony,” he said. His voice was raw and his throat hurt like he had spent the day before screaming himself hoarse. He paused for a moment and in the silence, he nearly thought he heard Tony mutter a relieved “thank god” but decided the lack of sleep was probably just catching up with him.

“Listen, Bruce, we’ve got a jet on the way. Barton should be there within the hour and then he’ll bring you right home.”  _Home?_

“Okay,” Bruce said, unsure of what else to say.

He had been living in Stark Tower, now the Avenger’s Tower, since Loki’s invasion in New York almost a year earlier. As the construction crew cleared out nearly a month later and the much-needed repairs were completed on the building, Tony announced that their official suites were complete now and they were all welcome to move in at their discretion and leisure. Tony shepherded him from the guest bedroom Bruce had occupied in the weeks before and into the elevator, taking them down three floors. Bruce expected to be shown a room or maybe a private apartment. What he absolutely had not expected was for Tony to throw his hands out wide and announce “Here we are! Apartment faces the south, lab the north. Whole floor is yours buddy” and then clap him loudly on the back.

Bruce had been living and sleeping in the Avenger’s Tower longer than he’d lived anywhere else in the ten years that preceded it but never once had he dared to call anything more than just that; a place to sleep and a lab to work in. If he pressed, he would admit that a lot more went on in the tower than working and sleeping: team dinners Steve insisted on with everyone not currently on a mission or off earth in attendance, the occasional evening movie or ‘cinematic cultural appreciation night’ as Tony called them to catch Cap up and teach Thor a thing or two about Midgard, not to mention the nearly unending cascade of practical jokes Agent Barton, Tony, and Natasha took part in. But all of those were things he was a passive participant in. Bruce was there because they needed the Other Guy sometimes.

The Avengers Tower was definitely a home. It just wasn’t Bruce’s.

“Bruce, you still with me buddy?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. Sorry. Tony, I uh, I think I only have a minute more on this phone and I already ran out of change,” Bruce said while patting the spot on his hips where a pocket would be if he was wearing anything else other than the purple spandex pants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Damn how did you even manage to find what must be the last operating payphone in the country?” Bruce couldn’t tell if Tony was more amused or exasperated by his achievement.

“Just lucky I guess.”

There was a pause on Tony’s end of the line and Bruce thought the call had been cut off but then Tony was speaking again, softer than before. “We’ll see you real soon Bruce.”

 

With Agent Barton on the way and no other way to pass the time, Bruce ducked into the alley between the gas station and the building next door. He eased himself to the ground and laid back against the cold brick wall. The November chill was starting to get to him but between the ache in his bones and the dull pounding in his head, the cold wasn’t all that bad. He pulled his knees into his chest, setting his chin into the groove between them. Against his better judgement, Bruce let the exhaustion take over as his eyes slipped shut. 

Spending several years running from the most dangerous military in the world had led to the development of some useful, albeit unfortunate habits. It was useful to be able to pick up and go at a moment’s notice and without a second thought. It made the spontaneity of world saving missions easy to deal with it. Years ago such spontaneity would have sent him through a panic. If he didn’t have the Other Guy, he supposed it would have been useful to have the quick reflexes and agility that came from one-too-many close calls with Ross’s lackeys. But as plain-old Bruce Banner, it only showed as paranoia.   
In hindsight, Bruce was certain that Agent Barton had done whatever he could to wake him without startling him awake, but it all came down to that never being possible in the first place. Bruce jolted awake as something clutched his shoulder. His eyes snapped open and instantaneously, he grabbed the assailants arm. Alarm bells were ringing in his head even as Agent Barton came into focus and Bruce was momentarily immobilized as he tried to sort through whether or not he needed to knock him out and run. 

Agent Barton held himself impossibly still as Bruce locked eyes with him. Bruce sagged a bit. Safe.  _ Safe. _ He was safe. 

“Agent Barton,” Bruce said.

Agent Barton nodded. “Banner.” 

Dully, Bruce registered that he was still violently holding onto something. He looked between himself and Agent Barton and realized that ‘thing’ he was crushing was actually Barton’s wrist and he dropped the offending appendage like he had been burned. 

“S..sorry I’m.. I’m so sorry.” 

“Nah.” 

Bruce’s face flooded with shame and he forced himself to look at Barton. “It’s not fine.” 

“It is man. It’s fine.”  Agent Barton crouched down to face him.

“I made you come all the way out here to find me and then I nearly crushed your hand,” Bruce said quickly.

“No, harm done,” he replied just as fast. 

Agent Barton unwaveringly maintained eye contact and Bruce was suddenly struck with the incredulity of the situation. They were in the middle of... he didn’t even know where, Bruce was practically naked in the November chill, and an Avenger, one of the people who now routinely saved the world or whatever, was trying to comfort him, Bruce Banner, also an Avenger. He silently hoped any passers-by would be confused enough by the former and look away before noticing the latter. The last thing Bruce wanted to see when he returned to the tower was his name trending on twitter again. 

“Really, it’s fine,” Agent Barton continued. “Besides I’ve always wanted to check out rural Ohio. Have to say it doesn’t quite beat rural Iowa.” 

The nagging voice in the back of his head wanted to keep arguing, (No. No. No. Inconvenience. Pain. Bother. He had  _ hurt  _ Agent Barton. He had run away from a fight. His fault. His fault. His fault.), but all the energy had gone out of him. 

Agent Barton slung the backpack from his shoulders and sat it on the ground between the two of them. He pulled a bundle of clothes out and carefully handed them to Bruce.

“Slip these on and let’s get you out of here.” 

He dressed quickly in the sweats and tee shirt he recognized as his own from back at the tower while Agent Barton rummaged further in the backpack. With what looked like an energy bar and emergency blanket in hand, he zipped back up the pack and slung it back around his back. Before Bruce had a chance to stand on his own, Agent Barton had a hand wrapped around his forearm to help him up. Barton kept an arm firmly around Bruce’s back as they made the slow trek back to the waiting jet. 

“Come on man, let’s get you home.” 

Bruce tensed but allowed himself to be guided nonetheless.


	2. Chapter 2

On the jet, Bruce fell asleep almost as soon as he had buckled himself in. When he finally woke, it was to the sight of every Avenger crowded into his room. Tony had a chair pulled up to his bedside, Natasha next to him eyeing the IV stand. Across from him, Agent Barton was sitting with his feet propped up on the foot of the bed. Steve and Thor lined the wall next to him.

“Soo,” he began. Every head turned to him. It was a little unnerving. “Am I dying or is this just the cool new place to hang?” He was met with a reaction he could only describe as being halfway between a laugh and a grimace.

“Didn’t you know? Your room is the new communal living room,” Agent Barton announced. Bruce laughed and was grateful for the break in the obvious tension as everyone else chuckled a little too.

"Okay boys," Natasha began. "You've seen him, he's fine," she said with one hand on the collar of Tony's shirt and the other on Agent Barton's. "Time for bed." She half-walked, half-dragged them toward the door. "We'll watch him. He's not going anywhere."  

Cap nodded along. “You’re no help to anyone if you can’t see straight.”

Bruce frowned. While it was more than entertaining to watch Tony and Agent try to worm their way out of Natasha's grip only to fail miserably, he resented that they were so worried that he'd just up and abandon them without a word.

 

Despite Bruce’s assurances that he was fine now, that all he needed was a little more sleep and some solid food, he spent the next 24 hours rarely alone for longer than ten minutes. When he woke the second time, the majority of the team had gone leaving Thor sitting in the chair across from his bed with a book across his lap.

“My friend!” Thor said. “You’ve woken! Is there anything you need?”

If it were anyone else practically yelling at him, even excitedly, so soon after he’d woken up, Bruce would probably have been annoyed. But Thor’s smile and seemingly genuine elation to see him made it difficult to even be mad in the first place.

“Uh, have you seen my glasses?” He could see okay without them but if he wanted to get any work or reading done in bed, he was going to need them.

Thor shut his book and began bustling around the room. “Ah hah!” he shouted after a minute or two. “Here you are, Banner.”

Bruce put the glasses on and sighed with relief as everything came into sharper focus. “Thanks, Thor.” Bruce reached over to his nightstand in search of the StarkPad he was sure he had left there before their last mission but came up empty-handed. “You didn’t happen to see a tablet lying around here, did you?”

“I believe Stark took it with him when he left for bed himself. Something about you needing rest and not journal articles and I have to say I do agree with him.”

Bruce frowned. “You guys aren’t messing around here are you.”

“If you want I could read aloud the book I was reading myself,” Thor said.

“What are you reading?” Thor immediately launched into a detailed description of a story which sounded suspiciously like Lord of the Rings but before Bruce could ask for sure, he found himself drifting back off to sleep anyway.

 

He had no idea how long he slept but when he woke next, Thor had been replaced by Steve. Instead of a book, he had a sketchbook on his lap and pencil in hand. Cap was a good guy, so good Bruce was never sure how to talk to him and he frequently avoided being left alone in a situation requiring just that.

“Do you think I went a little too heavy on the shading?” Cap handed the notebook over to Bruce. Bruce eyed it for a moment, attempting to give the impression that he was qualified in any way to answer that question. The sketch was of him asleep in his bed. The IV in his arm and with Thor, Tony, Agent Barton, and Natasha sitting and standing throughout the space around him; a perfect likeness to what he had awoken to earlier.

It was a little freaky to wake up and realize you've been watched the whole time and even freakier to see that re-imagined in a perfect likeness in graphite. It was confusing to see the deep worry Steve had managed to capture on each of their faces. They hadn't really thought that the Other Guy had run away for good, had they?

“It’s amazing,” Bruce began. “But I hope you know, I know absolutely nothing about art.”

Bruce was surprised when Cap burst out laughing.

 

Bruce had tried to give the notebook and the drawing back to Cap, but he insisted Bruce keep it. Afterall, it was a picture of him sleeping. Bruce relented and he reverently propped the drawing up on his bedside table. Not long after, Tony all but flew through the door, lunch in hand. With the IV still in his arm, there wasn’t much of a need for the sandwich Tony pushed in his hand but he accepted it nonetheless and immediately began peeling the paper off and dug in.

“Boy am I glad to see you awake,” Tony said as he dragged the chair by the bed infinitesimally closer.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “I’m not made of glass Tony. And I'm not going to run away. You can all cut the babysitting act."

Tony shot him an incredulous look.

“Tell that to Clint, I think he thought you were going to snap in half during your walk to the jet.”

Bruce groaned. “I was that bad?”

Tony nodded his head and shoved a handful of chips in his mouth. “Said you looked like a spooked animal."

Bruce grimaced.

“Bruce,” Tony began. “Do you feel at home here?”

Bruce startled and looked away. He thought back to their stilted conversation via the payphone.

“It’s a home,”

Tony snorted. “I know it’s a home. A damn fine one if I do say so myself but what I want to know is if it’s your home.”

Bruce wasn’t good at these kinds of things. He wasn’t good at talking and feeling and emotions.

“Tony, I don’t have a home. I gave that up when I turned into an irradiated, giant, angry, rage monster. But if you’re worried about the Other Guy, don’t. He’s not going anywhere.”

Tony shook his head.

“Sir, Miss Potts is requesting your help.”

Tony grimaced but he stood and gathered the trash from lunch all the same. As he reached the doorway, he turned back to face Bruce. “Whether you want to believe it or not, you will always have a home here.”

 

Bruce got about half an hour to himself before Agent Barton was stumbling into his room with a deck of cards in hand and a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He spun around the chair next to his bed and straddled it. Bruce braced himself for another lecture but instead, he began dealing the cards.

“You know how to play poker?”

Bruce grinned. “It’s been a long time but it’s just like riding a bike, right?” 

Their first few games were passed mostly in silence with only the sound of shuffling cards to break the monotony. Bruce couldn't decide if the silence was comforting or awkward. Agent Barton was rarely this quiet when not on a mission. In the tower, he was known for his quick wit and propensity for practical jokes. Barton probably found Bruce's own quiet demeanor dull. For Bruce though, after being forcibly babysat since arriving back at the tower, it was nice to be able to just play a game in relative stillness. 

After Barton won their first round of best-three-out-of-five, Bruce broke the silence. "Sorry, you got dragged you into babysitting duty, Agent Barton," Bruce said while scratching the back of his head. "Really I'm not going to go anywhere. I'm sure you have something better to do." 

Agent Barton stopped shuffling the cards and shot Bruce with a scrutinizing look. Bruce felt his face warm. There was no contest that the silence they were in now was absolutely awkward and not at all comforting. It took all Bruce's self-control not to start fidgeting as Barton's gaze refused to let up. 

"It's Clint." 

"What?" Bruce asked startled. 

"We've stopped two alien invasions and lived in the same place for nearly a year, I think we can drop the formalities. It's Clint." Agen- Clint. Clint reached out a hand and Bruce mirrored his action. They shook hands and Bruce would have thought it was awkward if it weren't for the completely relaxed expression on Clint's face. 

"Bruce," Bruce said. Their handshake had ended but their hands were still clasped and hanging over Bruce's bed. His face heated again and he dropped his hand back to his side. 

"And as for babysitting; there are only two people in this world who could get me to do something I didn't want to and I can assure you neither of them is Tony Stark. I'm here because I want to be. Not to babysit you. Not to make sure you stay in bed. Or don't run away. I'm here to be with you." 

Just like when Clint had woken him before back in the alley, Bruce's entire head was a loud mash of alarms and conflicting thoughts all fighting each other. 

Run. Stop. Stupid. Calm down. RUN. 

Bruce felt like he should be saying something. Anything. But before he got the voices in his head sorted out enough to try, Clint was speaking again. "So, are we playing again or what?"

Bruce nodded his head as Clint resumed shuffling the cards. 

 

At dinner, it was Natasha who arrived with a smoothie in hand for him and a sandwich for herself. She hovered momentarily at the end of the bed and took a long look between Clint and himself and Bruce could have sworn there was the hint of a smirk on her face. And then, all at once, she was pulling up the other chair and telling Clint to deal her in too.

Natasha smoked them both easily in rummy and poker and Bruce honestly wondered how he could have expected any different.

“Well boys we better quit now before you owe me your 401ks too.”

Clint hung his head an mumbled “one of these days I’m gonna win it all back and then some,” before bursting out laughing.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Clint asked shrugging. “A guy can wish.”

It was nice getting a glimpse at their interactions with each other. They had comfortability and ease with each other that no one else in the tower came close to.

Natasha gathered the remaining cards and shoved them back in the box before turning on Clint.

“You,” she said. “Bed. Now.”

“Aww but Nat the party was just getting started!”

“Clinton Francis Barton I know for a fact you’ve gotten less than five hours of sleep in the past 72 hours and unless you want me to force Bruce to start guilting you too, you will go to bed.” Clint blanched and shot him a guilty look. Bruce shrugged as if to say ' _better listen_ '.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going.”

Bruce had expected Natasha to excuse herself shortly after she’d sent Clint packing but instead she took her time cleaning up their mess from dinner and catching him up on what Tony had blown up in his lab that day.

“You guys do I didn't mean to run away right?” Bruce asked as Natasha sat back in the chair and propped her legs up on the edge of his bed. Her only response was to raise her eyebrow. "The Hulk isn't going anywhere. You don't need to worry. And as for the IV and all that, no matter how sick, dehydrated, or even starved I get, I’m still immortal. Can’t die even if I want to.” He had meant the last bit as a joke but it took one look at Natasha’s unimpressed expression to see that it had fallen flat.

“You don’t get it do you?” Her face was hard but her voice soft as she shuffled the deck of cards and waited for Bruce to answer.

“Get what?”

Natasha sighed and simply dealt another hand of cards leaving Bruce with the distinct impression that he had missed something important.


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning Bruce decided for himself that his period of bedrest was over. He woke early and dragged himself into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. Bruce wasn’t sure what made him feel worse, the little bits of dust still in his hair from waking up in rubble or the general feeling of disgust that can only come from laying in bed for over twenty-four hours. He scrubbed his skin nearly raw and shampooed his hair twice before finally stepping out of the shower and dressing again.

He wanted to make a quick cup of tea before heading over to his lab for the morning. Before their most recent mission, he had been working on the analysis of his most recently acquired data and wanted to review his work so far before really digging into it in the afternoon.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” he yelled. His kitchenette was littered with Avengers in various states of wakefulness. No doubt dragged there by Tony for round two of making sure the Hulk wasn't quitting the team. Natasha and Tony occupied the two bar stools, Clint sat on the counter, and Thor and Steve stood by the fridge. Steve opened his mouth, presumably to add to the lectures he’d gotten yesterday but Bruce beat him to it. “Normally I’m the one that needs to relax but seriously you guys need to chill out. The Hulk isn’t going anywhere. He’ll still smash up whatever alien invader it is that week. Just let me live my life in peace in between.” He set about making the cup of tea he'd been craving earlier, banging the cabinet doors shut and slamming the mug onto the countertop. 

For one long moment, no one moved. No one spoke. And then, like a switch had been flipped, everyone was speaking at once, if only for a moment.

“You really,” Tony began.

“Bruce, how,” Natasha said.

“It isn’t a matter of,” said Steve.

“No, no, that isn’t,” Clint muttered.

“My friend,” Thor began.

Bruce wanted to press his hands over his ears to block out all the garbled mess but instead, he let them work out that whatever they were trying to say was practically incoherent.

“Okay, stop stop stop,” Clint yelled holding his hands out in front of him. “We’re practically jumping on the guy. We’re big kids. One at a time.” Clint pointed to Tony. “Tony, you’re up.”

“Bruce, this isn’t about the Hulk. It’s never been about the Hulk,” Tony said.

Bruce scrunched up his face and fought the urge to roll his eyes. Everything was about the Other Guy. “Then why?” he asked. He turned to face the lot of them and folded his arms over his chest. 

Bruce watched Tony fight with the frustration so clearly bubbling just below the surface before he said, "why what?"

“Why sit with me all day long when it was clear I was sleeping all day long? Why spend nearly two days just babysitting me? You have your godlike AI, I'm sure Jarvis would be the first to alert you if I tried to make a run for it.” Bruce was still yelling and he had a feeling he shouldn’t be but this was all so confusing and he didn’t know how to react anymore. It’s always been about the Hulk. Ever since the Other Guy had shown up for the first time, that was all people saw when they met Bruce Banner, even when he wasn’t going green around the edges.

“Bruce, you’re apart of the team. Why wouldn’t we?” Tony said and he now he looked just as confused as Bruce felt. 

Bruce threw his hands up in frustration. What was that supposed to mean? 

“Okay, I’m subbing in,” said Natasha. “We ‘babysat’ you, as you so eloquently put it, because you’re our friend and we care about you. You, Bruce. We care about you.”

Bruce nodded slowly before speaking. “I was just a little dehydrated. I was fine. I can't die.” Tony rolled his eyes and Natasha shook her head.

“Steve, you’re up,” she said.

Steve looked startled for a moment before his donning his classic Captain America composure. If anything, that just set Bruce further on edge but he tried his best to not let it show. This was growing more and more annoying by the second and it was starting to feel frustratingly like an intervention but for the life of his, he couldn't understand what needed intervening. 

“We know it was mostly a case of dehydration and lack of sleep that had you laid out in bed all day. But that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t care. It was unnerving when we were unable to locate you after the mission had been completed.” When Steve clearly wasn’t about to offer any more Natasha sighed again.

“Clint?” she said.

“Okay, what I think we’re all trying to get at here is simple," Clint said. He jumped off the counter and clapped his hands once before continuing.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. If it was so simple, why was it taking all five of them to spit it out?

“Yes, the Big Guy is a member of the team. You, Bruce Banner, are also a member of the team. And if you haven’t noticed, we’ve kinda got a family kinda thing going on here. We all live together more or less even if Thor splits his time between realms and Tony splits time here and in his other ridiculous mansion in Malibu. We have a fucking recurring movie night for god sakes and we eat the majority of our meals together. I don’t have the best experience with family myself, but I’m pretty sure living, eating, and relaxing together is like eighty-percent of it. So yeah, when you fucking disappeared mid-battle and couldn’t be found after, it freaked us out a bit. And maybe some of us," he said while shooting a look over at Tony, "overreacted a little bit. But it was all out of concern, not fear." 

Bruce took a moment to soak that in. They had been worried... _about him?_ And not about the Other Guy?

“So you,” Bruce began. “So you rushed out to pick me up because...” Bruce swallowed. It was a lot. It was too much.

“Because we were worried. About you. Bruce Banner, 7 PhDs. We were worried and wanted you _home_ ,” Clint said when it was clear Bruce wasn’t going to finish his sentence.

“Home,” Bruce muttered not looking at any of them. He felt a little unsteady on his feet. “I’m just... I’m gonna...” he pointed toward the adjacent living room before walking to the couch and taking a seat. He swallowed again. “And.. the babysitting... you were worried? But I can’t die?”

Tony smacked himself in the forehead as Natasha let out another ridiculously dramatic sigh.

“Right. Right. Okay.” Bruce said.

“Do you understand now?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah. I think so,” said Bruce. "So you... weren't trying to keep the Hulk from leaving the team." 

Clint and Thor nodded. "That's correct Banner," Thor said. 

"You aren't trapped here," Tony began. "No one will stop you if you want to leave. But you can be damn sure, after stopping two alien invasions, we're friends for life now whether you stay on the team or not." 

Clint walked slowly over to where Bruce sat on the couch. "You okay?" he asked when Bruce hadn't said anything for a couple of minutes. 

"Yeah, I... yeah. Sorry, it's just a lot." 

"No apologies man," Clint said, clapping him on the back. Clint rested his hand there for a moment before he turned back toward the rest of the group. "Okay. Well, I don't know about you guys but I got plenty of my own shit to do. If you need me, I'll be in the range." Bruce silently thanked Clint for his announcement as everyone clearly took that as the cue that their job was done and they could move on. They filed out of his apartment as down the hall until only Tony lingered by the door. 

"You'll always have a home at the tower," Tony said and Bruce was brought back to their conversation the day before that ended nearly the same. 

This time, Bruce said "thank you," before Tony too disappeared down the hall.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The unofficial ending to this happy Bruce & Avengers Team fic told from Clint's POV. Originally this fic was much longer and was going to switch POV and be an intro into a huge story I have planned but in the end, it kind of got away from me. That massive story is still coming and this is an optional bridge to that one. Anyway, I didn't want to rewrite this ending in Bruce's POV so please bear with me.

When Clint had first moved into the tower, he had used the majority of his first few days to learn every nook and cranny of the building with an emphasis on the living areas. It took him a day and a half to nail down the best escape routes via the ventilation system and another day to determine which windows had the best vantage points. The window in Banner’s lab was great if he needed sight on midtown while the landing pad for the Iron Man suits was excellent for overlooking the majority of the city. But unsurprisingly, it was the roof that was by his favorite place. Not the balcony off of the common living spaces or the landing pad just big enough for the smallest quinjet, the actual roof of the building. Aside from having the best vantage points for thorough surveillance, it was also the calmest.

Despite the fact that they all practically had a floor to themselves, sometimes Clint felt like the walls were pressing in on him anyway. And that’s when he would make his quick escape to the roof, electing to bound up the emergency stairs rather than use the elevator even if it left him breathless by the time he reached the top.

He threw open the rooftop door and stopped short upon seeing the silhouette of someone else already looking out over the skyscrapers of Manhattan. In the eight months, Clint had lived at the Avenger’s Tower, he had never encountered another person on any of his many adventures to the roof whether day or night.

It was more of a surprise when he realized it was Bruce Banner gazing at the last remnants of the sun setting over the city. Banner had his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers and his dress shirt was untucked and fluttering just slightly in the breeze. It was probably the calmest Clint had ever seen the man and he had to admit, relaxed was a good look on him.

Banner didn’t turn or give any other sign of acknowledgment to Clint’s arrival. Clint stuttered briefly, unsure of whether he should join him by the edge or quietly slip back down the stairs.

Clint found himself pushing his shoulders back and taking a step forward. He met Banner at the edge and stopped practically shoulder to shoulder with him. Banner still didn’t say anything but he didn’t move away either and Clint took that as a sign to go on.

“Banner, I uh know we laid it on pretty thick earlier,” Clint began. “And you probably still don’t believe everything we said.” Banner continued gazing out at the skyline. “But I hope you know every part of it was true.” Banner stayed silent and Clint was hit with the overwhelming urge to keep talking, to fill the silence in any way possible. “We all got our own issues. Our own baggage. But we still love each other. And we love you. _I_ love you, man.”

Banner didn’t say anything for a long moment and Clint desperately fought the need to keep talking.

“It wasn't that thick.” Banner said finally. “I'm just an idiot sometimes." Clint grinned.

Banner was still looking at the city and sunset. Clint stole a glance at him from the corner of his eye and was surprised by how pleased he felt to see the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at Banner’s lips. Banner turned away from the edge then, angling his body toward Clint instead.

Clint froze momentarily. If Clint so much as turned minutely away from the edge, he and Banner would be practically chest to chest. It took nearly all of Clint’s self-control not to immediately turn into the contact.

“Clint,” Banner said and it sent a thrill throughout Clint’s entire body. Without taking a step back, Clint finally allowed himself to turn away from the edge and toward Banner. It was intimate how close they were now. Intimate and vulnerable too. Face to face, Clint was able to read every tell and plainly see every feeling that crossed Banner’s face: he was nervous, excited, worried,

Banner licked his lips. “It’s Bruce,” Banner said. “Call me Bruce.”

“Alright, uh, Bruce,” Clint said practically stammering. Bruce moved closer still, leaving the smallest gap between them, a feat Clint hadn’t thought possible. Clint could feel the warmth radiating off of him. Clint wanted to close the gap between them; wrap his arms tight around Bruce’s chest and not let go for a few minutes. Clint was suddenly reminded of the image of Bruce propped up alone on the wall, the way his back tensed under Clint’s arm when he’d said he was taking him home, and the downright confused expression he had worn as they had tried to explain that he was important to them. And fuck now he wanted to wrap his arms around him and not let go for a few hours.

Bruce broke the eye contact Clint realized they had probably been maintaining for what was far too long of a time for friends to stare at each other unblinkingly. Bruce opened his arms a bit and mumbled “can I?”

That was all the invitation Clint needed to close the last of the gap between them and pull Bruce into his arms. He wrapped his arms around Bruce’s middle and felt him do the same. They pressed together: thigh to thigh, chest to chest, and arms crushingly tight around the other’s back. Bruce rested his face in the crook of Clint’s neck and sighed and Clint’s stomach honest-to-god fluttered like he was a damn teenager again.

Clint could feel Bruce’s heart pounding and was unsurprised to feel his own racing to keep up. But despite it, he somehow felt calmer than he had in months.

Clint rested his head atop of Bruce’s and mumbled, “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” Clint whispered.

“Yeah?” Bruce said. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly awkward as a human that just reading about a hug makes me want to hide from second-hand embarrassment. Forgive me if it comes off awkward. 
> 
> catch me on tumblr crying over Bruce Banner: pancake-surprise


	5. Bonus: Clint Picks up Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I originally wrote this it was a lot longer and switched POV between Clint and Bruce. A lot of that original fic has been moved to another fic to come after this one but this chapter was leftover. It's in Clint's POV and is his side of Bruce's retrieval from rural Ohio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint's POV on Bruce's retrieval from rural Ohio.

Clint Barton had been through plenty of extractions during his time with SHIELD and he’d been on both sides of the equation nearly equally. No matter what the mission, an extraction was generally pretty straightforward. Show up. Get ‘em. And then get the fuck out. Didn’t matter if the hostiles were raining gunfire or if it was a peaceful extrication in the dead of night, the objective and order of operations remained the same. It made absolutely no sense then, why this mission to simply pick up Banner and bring him home to the Tower made the restless feeling in his chest grow heavier. For god sakes, it wasn’t like he was heading into an active war zone to retrieve the guy. Banner was stuck in a cornfield in middle-of-nowhere Ohio, not a battlefield. 

Clint had been on edge since the end of their battle the day before when the Big Guy had up and bolted out of nowhere leaving them behind to deal with the remnants of that month’s alien invasion. It had taken the Big Guy less than a minute before he was out of their sight. The Big Guy never ran when there was a fight to be fought and despite what other people may have thought about Bruce Banner, Clint knew he would never up and abandon them when they needed him. Banner was one of the good guys. 

He left the quinjet on the outskirts of town in an unused field. It wasn’t the most inconspicuous of places but this was hardly a stealth mission and if everything went according to plan, it would be a max of forty minutes before he and Banner were setting off into the sky and back to the Tower. 

It took him ten minutes of running to arrive in what was possibly the smallest town he had ever seen in his life,  _ and he grew up in Iowa.  _ The entire town comprised of just one street surrounded by corn, wheat, and beans for as far as the eye could see. He was immensely grateful that he had thought to change out of his uniform before jetting off to fabulous Ohio. Even if he didn’t quite blend in with his dark clothing and SHIELD issue combat boots, it was a hell of a lot better than walking down the main street of the American Dream looking ready for a full out battle. 

He found Banner slumped against the sidewall of the only gas station in town. The restlessness in Clint’s chest eased slightly upon spotting him but the feeling was quickly replaced with concern when he got closer. Banner had fallen asleep with a brick wall for a pillow. He was paler than Clint could ever remember seeing him post battle and the dark circles under his eyes were proof Banner’s exhaustion no doubt ran bone deep. He almost felt guilty for having to wake him but Banner would no doubt be better off on one of the ridiculously expensive mattresses Tony had put in each of their rooms. 

Tentatively, Clint reached out and gently grabbed him ‘round the shoulder. Almost instantaneously, Banner’s eyes snapped open and he had Clint’s wrist in a crushing grip. Clint held himself impossibly still. It took a moment but recognition slowly dawned on Banner’s face followed quickly by humiliation and distress. 

“Agent Barton,” Banner said abruptly. 

Though his grip had eased a little, he was still holding on to Clint’s arm. Banner’s voice sounded hoarse and pained and Clint winced in sympathy. The faster he got Banner out of here, the faster they could hook him up to an IV for the dehydration. 

“Banner,” Clint said. Banner noticed seemingly for the first time that he had Clint’s wrist caught in his hand and he dropped it like he had been burned. 

“S..sorry I’m.. I’m so sorry.” Banner was stammering and staring at his offending hand like he was trying to burn holes into it.

“Nah.” Banner looked back up him with such shock and shame on his face Clint was torn between laughing at the absurdity of the situation and feeling deeply unsettled by Banner’s reaction. “It’s fine man.” Clint crouched down. 

“I made you come all the way out here to get me and then I practically crushed your hand.” 

“No harm done.” Banner eyed him incredulously and Clint was hit with an overwhelming urge to comfort him in any way he could. But out here, in the middle of nowhere and with Banner wearing nothing but spandex pants, it wasn’t exactly the prime place for a hug. Instead, he said, “really, it’s fine. Besides, I’ve always wanted to check out rural Ohio. Have to say it doesn’t quite beat rural Iowa.” Banner didn’t look convinced but it was clear he didn’t have the energy to argue.

Clint slung the backpack from his shoulders and sat it on the ground between the two of them. He pulled the clothes Tony had sent along and handed them to Banner who somehow managed to be just as surprised over a pair of sweats and tee shirt as he had been seconds earlier. “Slip these on and let’s get you out of here.” While Banner got dressed, Clint rummaged around in the backpack pulling out an energy bar and a folded up emergency blanket. How Banner managed not to freeze to death overnight in the early November chill was beyond Clint and as soon as they were outside the town’s limit, he was going to wrap Banner in the blanket himself if he had to. 

With Banner dressed Clint wrapped a hand around his forearm and helped him stand. Clint kept an arm firmly around Banner’s back and slowly they began the trek back to the jet. “Come on man, let’s get you home.” Under his arm, he felt Banner tense on the word  _ home _ and Clint tried not to clench his jaw too tight.


	6. Bonus 2: Tony is a Mother Hen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I originally wrote this fic it switched POV between Tony/Bruce/Clint and was much longer. A lot of that original fic has been moved to another fic to come after this one but this chapter was leftover. Here is Tony being a total Mother Hen(TM).

It wasn’t that Tony was nervous. No, he’d passed nervous hours earlier. He was nervous when the Big Guy ran off mid-fight. Worried when he couldn’t be located within a two-hundred mile radius. Now, he was downright scared. 

It was obvious within an hour that for whatever reason the Big Guy had run off, it wasn’t with the intent to smash. There wasn’t so much as a tweet with a hint of a rogue Hulk sighting. And while that was completely relieving, on one hand, it was also incredibly frustrating. Hours had passed since the battle ended and they still were no closer to locating Bruce. When the fighting had ceased, Thor had done a quick run through of the surrounding area. When he returned without so much as a lead, Tony accessed every satellite he could and ransacked the Twitter and Facebook algorithms to get even the smallest hint of where their Jolly Green Giant might have run off to. He double-checked and triple-checked them as they arrived back at the Avengers Tower.  But it was all for nothing. 

By then, Tony wasn’t the only one on edge over the issue. The entire team had stayed up until the early hours of the morning while Tony tried to track down Bruce despite all of them being completely exhausted. Clint stayed behind even when Thor, Cap, and Natasha finally gave in and when to get some rest. It was during nights like these that Tony was secretly grateful everyone had broken down and agreed to move into the newly christened Avengers Tower. 

 

While Tony worked, Clint spent his time perched on the windowsill overseeing the city. Occasionally, he’d hop down to look over Tony’s shoulder at the screens in front of him before returning to his original spot. And every time Tony’s coffee ran low, Clint was there with a fresh one. 

“Sir, a landline located in rural Ohio is phoning your private line.”

Tony dropped what he was pretty sure was his sixth coffee and scrambled for his phone. At the windowsill, Clint’s head had snapped around and he was watching Tony carefully. 

“Bruce?” Tony said. For a long, torturous moment there was no response. “Bruce? I’m tracing this call. We’re on our way. Stay where you are.” Tony couldn’t even be sure it was Bruce but who else would call Tony’s private line at 9 in the morning- less than ten people even had the phone number. 

“Tony.” Bruce said.

Tony released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and muttered a quick “thank god.” Across the room Barton had jumped off the window sill and was using his StarkPad to analyze the coordinates Jarvis had accessed. Clint pocketed the pad, nodded once in Tony’s direction, and was out. 

“Listen Bruce, we’ve got a jet on the way. Barton should be there within the hour and then he’ll bring you right home.” 

There was another brief pause before Bruce mumbled a  _ thanks _ and then the line went quiet again. All of the relief Tony had felt when first hearing Bruce was slowly seeping away as Bruce’s hesitance and silence started to grate on him. 

“Bruce you still with me buddy?” Tony tried to keep his tone light but wasn’t sure how successful he was. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Tony, I uh, I think I only have a minute more on this phone and I already ran out of change.” 

“Damn how did you even manage to find what must be the last operating payphone in the country?”

“Just lucky I guess.” 

Tony let out another breath that was somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. It was impossible to tell over the phone whether Bruce’s demeanor was a product of exhaustion or if something deeper was bothering him and Tony was immensely glad it wouldn’t take more than a couple of hours before Bruce was back in the flesh.

“We’ll see you real soon Bruce.” 

 

Tony monitored the quinjet’s progress across the mid-Atlantic states and into the Midwest. Clint landed a mere forty minutes after he’d run from the room. Relief and apprehension fought each other for prominence as he mindlessly downed another cup of coffee.

Bruce had moved in right after the invasion of New York surprising practically everyone. Supposedly Fury had promised in exchange for Bruce’s cooperation during the Loki situation, he would be given amnesty to return to whichever third world hovel he wished. But instead, Bruce accepted the amnesty and settled into life in midtown Manhattan. He wasn’t the most social of guys but he came around a few to the common areas a few times a week. As more of the team moved in, Bruce allowed himself to be dragged to the family meals arranged by Cap, the movie nights Tony himself insisted upon, and though Bruce would certainly never admit it, Tony knew he had participated in the prank war currently being waged between Clint, Natasha, and himself. 

Often when Bruce joined them it was like he was desperate for the contact but fiercely trying to hold himself back. He allowed himself to be present but nothing more, rarely speaking without being directly engaged first, never requesting his favorite meal or movie. Frankly, it drove Tony up the wall.

As another half hour passed with no sign of the jet moving from its place in middle-of-nowhere Ohio, Tony wished he’d thought ahead enough to send a comm along with Clint. It would have been nice to have verbal confirmation that Clint had located Bruce. 

Practically two hours to the minute, Jarvis announced that the quinjet had begun its ascent. Tony pulled out his tablet, waiting until they hit 10,000 feet before trying to contact them. They had barely hit 8,000 feet when Jarvis announced Clint was calling him. 

“Barton, successful mission?” Tony asked quickly.

“He’s asleep in the back,” Clint said. 

Tony exhaled and finally felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders. 

“Tony,” Clint began, voice calm. “Have an IV prepped and waiting in his bedroom. He’s going to need it.” 

“On it,” Tony said and then Clint was gone.


End file.
